The beauty of drinking
by melvin the unicoRn
Summary: After some albeit poor decisions the night prior, you wake up in Makoto's guest room EDIT: continued on archive of our own, same title and U/N. I just like the format better. Anyway, first story, so gimme your criticisms!
1. Chapter 1

You awake to the smell of cologne. Though undeniably familiar, your groggy mind can't link it to a face. Sunlight burns through your eyelids, too bright, too red, painful. You moan and roll onto your stomach, burying your face in the pillow. Groping the bed, you feel around for the edge of the comforter, trying to pull it over yourself. You feel terrible, horribly hung over and exhausted.

As you finally start to drift off again, a light tap sounds and a door opens.

"Uuuuuuung," you groan, pulling the pillow up over your ears.

"Sorry!" someone replies cheerfully. "Just thought you might like some tea."

"Makoto?" you ask, confused. _What in the hell happened last night_ , you think to yourself.

"Yeah," he chuckles. Raising a hand to shield your eyes, you turn towards him.

The room is familiar, too—his guest room. You'd been over on many occasions before, for late study sessions or some one-on-one gaming. "What happened?" you inquire hesitantly. Judging by how you feel, you aren't sure you really want to know.

"Well, you got _pretty_ drunk last night," he explains. "Haru and the rest had a ride, so we got a taxi, but you passed out. When we pulled out at my place I wasn't sure if you could make it home safe by yourself, so I carried you in and let you stay the night; well, it's six past noon now so I guess you've been here a little longer," he laughs again, sitting on the foot of bed. "It's ironic, since you're always telling the rest of _us_ to be responsible."

Makoto grins smugly. You throw your pillow at him, and he bursts out laughing. He picks up the pillow and flops down next to you, swinging his arm over so it squishes into your face.

"MAKOTO, I'm so hung over, stop," you whine.

Playfully, he drapes his hand over your face and shooshes you. "Don't be so loud, it'll hurt your hangover."

"Shut up!"

Makoto chuckles, and pulls you towards him, fitting your head into the crook of his shoulder. "Relax," he chides gently, when you squirm in confusion. "Sorry I woke you up, ill help you get back to sleep," he smiles down at you, putting one of his muscular arms under your head, the other over your chest.

The smell of his cologne is stronger now, more intense than when it was merely a faint shadow left on the sheets. He holds you securely, and you feel something new—as if it's more than just the comforting embrace of a friend. You'd never thought of him as anything more in the past, but he _was_ simply gorgeous—and sweet, and intelligent. In his arms, you feel almost complete, in an indescribable way. Perhaps you subconsciously did hope for something more.

Perhaps you were still a little drunk.

"You comfortable?" he asks.

"Mm," you reply groggily, leaning closer. His body is warm and cradling.

"Do you think you'll remember this tomorrow?" he asks sarcastically. "You still seem a bit tipsy."

"Ugh, probably not..." you mumble, pressing your fingers over your eyes.

"Well..." Makoto says quietly, hesitantly, "I've wanted to say this for a while, but it never seemed like a good idea to talk about it, since I didn't want to jeopardize what we have. But, I really like you, in a way that goes beyond friendship. When I'm with you, playing games or going out, I always feel really happy," he laughs lightly. "You're really special. Always know what to say. It seems a little safer to get that off my chest while you're half asleep." Makoto sighs happily.

Almost unconscious, it's difficult to entirely process what he's saying, or understand the weight of what his words mean. Without really thinking, you mumble into his shirt, "I like you, too," almost incoherently. You feel lips press gently against your forehead, evoking from you a small smile.

It's quiet now, the throbbing in your head has lessened, and you could stay, just like this, forever. And maybe, if that were the case, you wouldn't have to deal with the daunting aftermath of this conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

You push through the coffee shop doors, sighing at the gust of hot air that rushes to meet you. Makoto is sitting by the window, on the loveseat, with two cups on the table in front of him. He smiles when he sees you, and you go to sit next to him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, concerned. Today, you aren't sporting your usual smile.

"Just...family," you reply vaguely. It's been tough recently. You don't really know where to start.

"Would it help to talk?" he offers.

"Maybe," you say. "You know it's always been like this, though." A small, breathy laugh escapes your lips.

Ever since your half-drunk, half-asleep talk with Makoto, the two of you had been inseparable. After recognizing your mutual squishy feelings, you had a good, solid, amazing relationship. You shared your lives, problems, aspirations, all that cutesy crap. You fell more for him every day, and he for you.

You'd begun to tell him more about your life at home, about your dysfunctional family, how hard it was, and the more you got out, the better you felt. Makoto was always there, picking you up when you fell, holding you when you needed someone to keep you grounded, helping you through the bumps in life.

Your mother was getting worse. She no longer provided the support you had once taken for granted. She scrutinized and criticized every decision you made, insulting everything you did. She was blunt, rude, and, to be truthful, she was a bitch. Your father had been absent your entire life, and even Makoto understood how much you depended on a maternal presence. But she remained, a bitch.

"It just keeps happening, you know?" you explain. "I'm doing great in school, made honour role, doing my part at home, I try so hard! But she's never satisfied. It's exhausting!" You slump against the back of the seat. Makoto takes both your hands in his, and tucks your head under his chin.

"I'm really sorry," he sympathizes. "I wish I could do something." he rubs comforting circles on the back of your hand.

You sigh. "Just a little longer. Then I can move away for university." You turn your head and smile up at him.

Makoto leans down, and catches your lips. The two of you kiss passionately, tongues intertwining, and for a moment you forget the woes of your life. In that moment, you can think only of how lucky you are, and how happy you can sometimes be these days, in his company.

"Let's do something fun. Get your mind off this," Makoto suggests when you finally separate. "How about a movie?"

"That sounds great," you say. The two of you pick up your drinks and head out into the brisk November morning.

The theatre isn't too far. When you arrive, you line up and scan the titles arranged along the walls.

"What would you like to see?" Makoto asks.

"Doesn't matter. Something fun?" you reiterate his previous suggestion from the coffee shop.

Makoto laughs. "Alright...how about that one?" he points to a poster.

"Nicolas Cage. Perfect."

You purchase tickets, and head in. After half an hour of commercials, the film begins, and Cage's beautiful, majestic, flawless face dances across the screen. Makoto puts his arm around your shoulders, and pulls you close. You relax into him, and the chaos of today melts away into the peace of your world with Makoto.


End file.
